


Resonance of Sorrow

by Emmilyne



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, F/M, Grave, post 4x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmilyne/pseuds/Emmilyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of 6 stories of Oliver’s heart breaking as he stood over a loved one’s grave.</p><p>Or</p><p>5 times a member of Oliver’s ‘family’ died and didn't come back and 1 time the Arrow’s producers were completely ignored.</p><p>Or</p><p>6 stories to help a true Olicity Shipper sleep for the next six months</p><p>Post 4x01</p><p> </p><p>  <b>If you have avoided this story because you didn’t want to read anything sad, please try the final chapter.  I promise a very happy fluffy ending.  </b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thea

**Author's Note:**

> Each of these chapters will be distinct stories taking place at the end of the Season 4 premier of Arrow, picking up immediately after the flash forward. A chose your own ending, if you will.
> 
> In each, there is a different character in the grave and I strived to be true to the emotion expressed in the scene. The Arrow producers have announced that that the person in the grave is not a fake out and will stay dead. The first five stories in this collection hold to that. The third… bends it a bit.
> 
> I wrote this to work through the pit in my stomach after I watched the premier. I consider it therapy. I hope it helps you too.

He shouldn’t have allowed this.  She was going to be lonely. 

Oliver should have found a way to have his sister buried in the family plot next to his mother and his father’s grave.  Even if one of them was empty.  Even if the plot was on an abandoned property they no longer owned and the mansion they grew up in was nothing but a burnt out shell of ruins.

It didn’t matter.  This wasn’t right.  Thea didn’t belong in this cold cemetery on the outskirts of the city with no one she knew. 

Oliver knew that getting her in the family plot would have been a legal nightmare and it would have delayed the funeral and the body was…. Christ, he should never have given into the pressure to get her in the ground.  She was going to be _lonely_.

Thea hated being alone.  She was a people person.  She was…

A tear fell down Oliver’s cheek, breaking through the numbness that defined his life for the last three days.  He knelt in front of his sister’s fresh grave and his hand began to shake.

What would happen if Oliver really let the grief in?  If the numbness and the walls and … if he really let himself feel…

What if he didn’t have a choice?  And it all came tumbling down whether he was ready or not.  The thought of really feeling, feeling it _all_ … terrified Oliver. 

This was so fucking wrong.  So unfair.  Thea didn’t deserve the life she’d been given, never mind the death.  Her life was just one tragedy after another and, yet, she had overcome so much of it.  Endured so much pain.  All to come to _this_.

With everything they had been through, everything Oliver and _all of them_ had sacrificed to get Thea in that damn Pit to bring her back to them.  All the side effects and the demons she had fought, determined to stay strong, to stay sane.  All of that and here they were, full circle, one year later. 

Thea alone in the fucking ground anyway.  Nothing better.  Nothing gained.

If Oliver had known, maybe he wouldn’t have brought Thea to Nanda Parbat in the first place.  And he wouldn’t have… he _shouldn’t_ have left her alone for five fucking months while he lived out his little domestic fantasy.  It may have been the best months of his life, but he should have been sharing that with his sister. 

Thea’d had one fucking year left on this Earth and Oliver had selfishly ran away from her for half of it.  It wasn’t even like Felicity had _wanted_ to be away.   It was all on him.

Thea was his only family.  How could Oliver’s perfect life _not_ include her?  He should have—

“Hey.”

Oliver jerked at the soft hand on his shoulder, eyes flying up, muscles tensing, only relaxing when he saw it was Felicity on her knees in front of him.  God, where had his instincts gone?  Anyone could have snuck up on him.  This was fucking dangerous.  He still had people counting on him.

“What are you...?” Oliver rasped, his voice cracking.

“Shhh,” Felicity soothed, her thumb swiping away his tears and stroking his cheek.

But Oliver shook his head.  “You…you’re supposed to be in the hospital.”  He had left her there this morning where everyone had _agreed_ she needed to stay.

Felicity shrugged, giving him a sad little smile.  “I convinced the doctors I needed to be here more.  I guess I wasn’t quick enough, though.  I’m sorry I missed the service.”

Oliver shook his head, the tears falling freely now, too distracted to fight them.  “The doctors said you needed to stay,” he insisted.  Why was Felicity ignoring doctor’s orders now, of all times?  He _needed_ her to be ok. 

“They figured it out,” Felicity told him softly. “I’m cleared.  I promise.”

But her face was covered in scrapes and bruises and there was a brace on her wrist, all reminding Oliver that she had been out there too, in the middle of the battle that had killed his sister.  Felicity should never be out there. 

“I need you to be ok,” Oliver whispered brokenly.  “I can’t lose you too.”

“I know.  You won’t.” Felicity nodded, tears filling her eyes.  “But I wanted to be here.  I _needed_ to be here.  For you.  For me.  For Thea.”

It was Felicity’s tears that finally broke him and Oliver listed forward with a sob, falling into her.  Felicity caught him, cradled him to her chest as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tears fell and he sobbed, sobbed like he hadn’t allowed himself to do in years.  Not for his mother.  Not for Tommy.  Or Sara.  Or Shado.  A dam had broken and Oliver was falling apart.

The only thing holding him together was Felicity’s hands in his hair and her lips against the top of his head and her body pressed to his as Oliver’s fingers dug into her back.

“It’s not fair,” Felicity whispered when Oliver’s sobs had finally settled into a quieter stream of tears.  “Thea was just learning to deal with the effects of the Lazarus Pit.” 

Which was a lie.  Or a delusion.  Thea had been as bad as ever.  Half the reason Thea had died was because she wasn’t thinking straight.   She was violent and reckless and wild.  It had been a constant struggle for her fight the demon inside her.

But Oliver didn’t argue.  He just clutched Felicity tighter and let her speak.  The sound of her voice was the only thing that could soothe him.

“And I was just getting to know her.  I always wanted a sister,” Felicity’s voice shook.  “And she was just so…she was such an amazing person.”

“She was,” Oliver agreed, though he knew Thea had changed.  God, if only Felicity had known her before.  Thea had been a force of nature.  The brightest, most beautiful child.  He wanted to tell Felicity all about it.  About the baby he had held in his arms, the dynamic little girl he had grown up with, and the women her sister had been, could have been, if it hadn’t been stolen from them, first by Ra’s and the Pit and now by a premature death. 

But just imagining the little girl he had lost and all the pain Thea had endured and Oliver couldn’t speak.  The sobs came back with a new force, tearing through him for long minutes, until Oliver slumped against Felicity, exhausted, his lungs burning, his chest aching.

When he finally stopped shaking, Oliver managed to pull himself together and sit up.  Taking a deep breath, Oliver tilted Felicity’s face back and met her eyes.  He was looking for something he could hold on to and he found it.  Felicity always centered him.  Carefully, he pushed her hair behind her ears and swiped his thumbs under her glasses to wipe her drenched cheeks.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Felicity repeated, her lip trembling.  Oliver ran his thumb over that too, trying to soothe, needing to touch.

“I need you healthy more,” Oliver argued, his eyes following his thumb, his voice no more than a rasp.

“Did you give her a rose for me?  Thea needed… she needed roses.”

Oliver nodded, eyes burning, but he couldn’t imagine he had any tears left.  “I did.  I promise.  We all did.”

“I should have been with you,” Felicity insisted, her eyes earnest and distraught.

“I had Digg and Lyla and Laurel.”

“It’s not the same.”

Oliver pressed a kiss to her forehead and took a tremulous breath, admitting, “No, it isn’t.”  But, then, before Felicity could beat herself up more, he asked, “What did the doctors say?”

In many ways, Oliver was more upset that he hadn’t spoken to the doctors at her discharge than that Felicity had missed the funeral.

“That I’m fine.”

Oliver frowned, but realizing he had Felicity on the cold ground, he managed to drag himself to his feet and reach down to help Felicity up as well, brushing them both off.  “And what changed since this morning?” 

“The blood work came back.  I’m fine.”

She kept saying ‘fine.’  Oliver didn’t want to be suspicious.  He couldn’t tell if she was hiding something from him or if it was just the grief and the terror and the overprotectiveness fighting inside him that made him doubt her word.  He _needed_ her to be fine, goddamn it.  He fucking needed…he couldn’t do this without her.  Especially now.

Felicity took Oliver’s hands, asking, “You ready to go?”

Oliver started to nod, but hesitated.  It still felt wrong to leave.

“It’s stupid,” Oliver confessed, his eyes again drawn to the headstone.  “I can’t help but feel like…” It was ridiculous really, but this was Felicity and if anyone was going to understand it was her.  “I can’t help but feel like, if I leave Thea will be lonely.”

Felicity smiled softy and reached up to cup his cheeks.  “Oliver, love, Thea’s not lonely.  She’s with your mom and dad and with Tommy.”  And then, miraculously, she smiled, her eyes even managing to twinkle just a bit.  “Can you just imagine Tommy’s face when he finds out she’s his _sister_?”

And, somehow, Oliver managed to smile too.  His first real smile in weeks, which, ironically, started the tears flowing again.  But this tale Felicity spun, of his loved ones together, at peace, he wanted to believe it badly.  Oliver clung to it as he clung to her hands, holding them to his face, leaning into her palms.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Oliver murmured.  “They’re all together now.  It’s only me left.”

“Oh, Oliver.” Felicity came up onto her toes to press a kiss to his lips.  “You’re not alone.”

“I know,” he rushed to reassure.  “I know and I love you.  _God_ , I love you.  But, Felicity, she was the only family I had left.”

Felicity fell back on her heels and blew out a breath, waiting for Oliver to meet her eyes, before saying, “No.  She’s not.”

“I _know_ you’re family.  And Digg and—”

Shaking her head, Felicity interrupted, her voice strange and raspy, “There’s still one more Queen left.”  Her hand trembled as she took his and placed it over her stomach.”

Oliver froze.  He stopped breathing.  “I don’t understand.”

Felicity swallowed.  “The blood work…. why I fainted at the hospital this morning… We’re having a baby, Oliver.”

Oh dear God.  Oh dear… Oliver’s thoughts stuttered to a stop, his breathing doing the same soon after.

Felicity babbled on, “I know this is terrible timing, like really _really_ it couldn't be worse, and I wasn’t going to tell you just yet, but I thought…I _think_ you should know.  That you aren't the only Queen left.”

Oliver's hand clenched over Felicity’s belly as his other fell to her shoulder.  He thought he may have swayed on his feet.  “How?”

Wringing her hands together, Felicity bit her lip, her eyes flying anxiously over his face.  “I guess all those late nights and _all nights_ and crises and dying and yeah...  Well, I guess I must have missed a few pills. I'm sorry—”

“No.  _No_ … Don't be sorry.   God…please… don’t be sorry.”  A hysterical laugh that could have been a sob emerged from his mouth and Oliver kissed her, a firm and reassuring pressure, one that tasted of salt.  Then a terrible thought occurred to him.  “Are you _ok_?  The explosion…?”

“I’m fine, the doctors said I… _we_ are fine.  Both of us.  Apparently, it's,” Felicity waved her hand in front of her abdomen, “rather well protected at this stage.”

“Thank god,” Oliver breathed, hauling Felicity into his arms and holding her close.  His mind was already running through the increased precautions they would need.   He needed to get Felicity back to the bunker.  It was the safest place.  Then he needed to keep her there until this was done.  And it needed to be done.  Soon.

Felicity clung back just as tight, her face buried in Oliver’s neck.   “Thea would have loved being an Aunt,” she rasped.

A lump stuck in Oliver's throat.  No one would have been happier about a baby than Thea.  She would have loved… Oliver swallowed, whispering, “Yes, she would have.”

“I know it's crazy, but the timing…I just…I kind of feel like Thea had something to do with it.  Like the baby is like a parting gift or something…. like a little part of Thea she left for us.  Is that crazy?  It's crazy, isn't it?”

“No,” he croaked, hugging her closer.  “It's not crazy, it's…”  Oliver shook his head, completely overcome.   “It's…I… I’m just so _glad_ , Felicity.”

Felicity smiled up at him tearfully.  “Me too, Oliver.  Me too.”

 

 

 


	2. Laurel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one starts before Barry arrives in 4x01.

The funeral was an absolute disaster.  A farce.  Laurel deserved so much more.

 

Oliver thought of the beautiful, brilliant, confident girl he had loved when he was too young and too stupid to appreciate it.  And of the woman she became.  Someone who was so much than that.  A hero.  A defender of the city.  A city Laurel gave her life for in one of the bravest, most unselfish things Oliver had ever witnessed.  

 

He had wanted to honor that.  And Oliver knew their little family agreed, but… they hadn't had much of a say.  Blood had won out that day.  And it was ugly.

 

The team had had no say when, instead of the solemn, classy event that Laurel _should_ have had, the recently fired Captain Lance showed with an almost empty bottle of Jim Bean clutched in his hand, screaming about how they were all freaks.  How Oliver had murdered his daughter.  How he was responsible for destroying both of his baby girls.  How the rest of them were accomplices and he was going to send them all to prison.

 

Something the Quentin Lance no longer had any power to do.

 

They had no say when Mrs. Lance had thrown the bundle of roses Felicity had carefully selected in her ex-husband’s face, cursing him, telling him he had ruined their daughter’s funeral like he had ruined all of their lives, that he was a disgrace and a misery for a father and husband.  Only there was more bile and swearing before the distraught women had stormed off, not even waiting until the casket could be lowered into the ground and the grave filled, vowing to never speak to any of them or to step foot in Star City ever again.

 

Oliver couldn't blame her for either, really.

 

They didn’t have a say when things just got worse as Lance had drawn a gun.  Not police issue, that had been taken last week, pending a psych evaluation that he had never showed up to. 

 

And not when Lance said the world would be better off with every last one of them dead.

 

And it certainly wasn't what any of them wanted when both Oliver and Thea’s darts found Lance in that same moment, leaving him dangerously sedated, especially considering the amount of alcohol already, undoubtedly coursing through his veins.

 

The ceremony was never finished.   It was so so unfair.  Strong, beautiful Laurel, who had made so much of her life, for it to come to an end like this.

 

Lyla followed Dinah to try and comfort her as only another mother could.  Digg hauled the former captain over his shoulder as Felicity trailed behind, already on the phone with St. Walker’s Psychiatric Hospital arranging for evaluation and, hopefully, admission for the elder Lance. The whole thing was too much for Thea and she took off on her bike for God knows where.

 

And Sara...Sara wasn't there.  Couldn't be, really, since her mother didn't know that she had been brought back.  A decision made after seeing her had started her father’s precipitous decline into insanity.

 

Honestly, Oliver didn't know if Sara even wanted to be there.  If she even cared.  Ever since she’d been back, Sara, who had once been so full of life and passion, was just…cold.   And she had _not_ thanked Laurel for bringing her back. 

 

This left Oliver to pay his quiet respects alone.    So, he gathered the roses and carefully placed one after another onto the casket.  One for each of them.   Felicity would be upset if he hadn’t.   Then he stood vigil as workers lowered the casket into the ground and covered her with dirt. 

 

Ashes to ashes.  Dust to dust.

 

Barry came, but he barely knew Laurel.  He respected the Black Canary, had fought by her side, but Laurel was only an acquaintance.  He was there to support Oliver.   But Oliver didn't need his support. 

 

He needed to do everything he could to protect what Laurel gave her life for.  To clean up this mess and send the villains to hell where they belonged.  Then Oliver needed to go home and bury himself in Felicity, soak up her pure Feliciti-ness and, then, get up the next morning and build a Star City worthy of Laurel’s sacrifice.  A city Tommy and his parents would be proud of.

 

Oliver crouched in front of the headstone.  He'd been eight when he first met Laurel.  Tommy had been by his side, as he so often was.  Laurel had been so full of fire even then, putting the silly, rambunctious boys in their place.  Life had been so easy, so bright, so full of promise back then.  How had they gone from that to _this_? 

 

“Thank you.”

 

It wasn't long after Barry left when the soft voice pulled Oliver out of his heavy hearted remembrances.  He looked up from his spot on the ground and smiled his first smile since it happened.  Relief washed over him.  She’d come after all.  Laurel would be glad.

 

“For what?” Oliver asked, his voice raspy, as he rose to his feet.

 

Sara stood just behind the headstone, hands buried in the pockets of her jeans, her face grim.  “For not putting her in the Pit.”

 

Oliver’s breath hissed and he had to look away, his eyes burning.  “We all agreed.  Never again.  We’re never using the Lazarus Pit again.”

 

Sara nodded and looked down, whispering again, “Thank you.”

 

Scrubbing his face, Oliver acknowledged her thanks with a dip of his head.   Not that he felt he deserved thanks.  Not at all. 

 

Approaching the headstone, Sara ran her finger along her sister’s name.  The pain in her eyes proving to Oliver that she wasn't as broken and emotionless as they'd feared.  It was the only positive to come out of this horrible day.

 

“At least one of us can rest now,” Sara murmured.

 

She said it so quietly Oliver almost didn't catch her words, but when he processed them, his head snapped up.  “Do you remember?” He asked half-awed, half-horrified.  “What it was like to be…?  I'm sorry, never mind, I—”

 

But Sara smiled, wryly, “What it was like to be dead, you mean?”

 

Oliver swallowed, nodding, burying his hands in his pockets and hunching over, trying to become smaller.

 

“Not a lot,” Sara admitted, standing and brushing her hands on her jeans.  “But I remember a sense of…peace.  And I, I miss it,” she frowned at the horizon, “I think.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Oliver choked out.  And he was. So _so_ sorry.  He should have never allowed them to do this to her.

 

But the look Sara sent him was reassuring.  “It's ok.  Your intentions were good.”

 

Oliver scoffed at that, feeling a wave of the old self-disgust.  If he had a dime for every time his _intentions were good_ and it ended in disaster, he’d be a billionaire again.

 

Sara placed a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.  “Don't blame yourself, Ollie.   Honestly, it's just….” She took a deep breath.  “Rip says I was meant to come back.  That in the future I'm resurrected.  So be it fate or destiny or whatever, I was going to die and be brought back no matter what.  And if I wasn’t, something worse would have happened.”

 

Strangely, Oliver didn't feel reassured.   “That's a scary thought, Sara.  That nothing we do or chose matters, that we're all actors in a play, being swept along with the illusion of free will.”

 

“Yeah,” Sara laughed bitterly, “I felt that way too for a time.  But I don't think that's true either.  If it was already ‘written’ or some fucking bullshit than I wouldn't have to jump through time trying to fix crap.”

 

Oliver smiled at the derision she had for the fantastic life she had now.  “It's hard to wrap your head around,” he agreed.

 

“Tell me about it.   I try to think of destiny as a goal, instead of a forgone conclusion.  It helps.  With the headaches, you know?”

 

Oliver nodded again, digesting.  He preferred not to think of destiny at all.  He _needed_ to believe in free will.  That his choices and actions mattered.  Though, maybe, he did believe that his responsibility for his city was something more than a coincidence.  And soul mates.  He was starting to believe in soul mates.

 

After that, they drifted off into a soothing silence, their eyes on Laurel’s grave.  For the first time that day, something felt _right_ to Oliver.  Just him and Sara, saying goodbye in the peace of an early spring day, remembering the girl they'd loved, honoring the hero she’d become.

 

Oliver’s thoughts drifted back to what Sara had said about her own death and remembering what she said about feeling peaceful.  It gave him more hope than he was truly comfortable with, not just for Laurel and the others they’d lost, but for the future, because death may not be something to fear after all.

 

“Do you think Laurel’s…?” Oliver drifted off, unsure of what it was he wanted to ask. 

 

But, somehow, Sara seemed to follow.  “Think she's at peace?  Yeah, I do.  I think she's finally free of all the sadness and fear and grief.  I think… I think she's with Tommy.” Sara smiled sadly.  “Not in a bullshit corporal, holding hands and skipping through the golden daisies way.  But I think their souls will…have found each other’s.”

 

A sob escaped Oliver's throat.  Because he wanted to believe that.  He wanted to believe that _so_ badly.

 

He didn't trust himself to speak, so, instead, Oliver took a shaky breath and opened his arms.   Sara stepped into them.  It was comfortable.  Welcome.  Soothing.  She felt like his old Sara.  His friend and partner.

 

Oliver held her to him and vowed, “I’m going to end this.  For Laurel.  Her sacrifice won't be for nothing.  I swear it.”

 

“I know.  And I'm going to help.”

 

Pulling back, Oliver searched her face.  “Are you sure?”

 

She gave him the old Sara’s smile.   “Completely.   My team is here.  We’re all ready.  The people who did this, _they’re going down_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode was written before 4x02 and I’m not sure if I would have written Lance this crazy if I wrote it this week, but it was inspired by an interview where the actor joked that his daughters dying and coming back repeatedly was going to drive him insane.
> 
> Also, I love Sara. If you don’t understand what her and Oliver were talking about you probably need to watch the ‘Legends of Tomorrow’ trailer. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MubNoWQiSc
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Emmy


	3. Connor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several hours after end of 4x01.

“Oliver, man, I know you wanted some time alone, but it's been five hours.  Felicity’s starting to freak a little.”

 

Looking up from his spot on the cold damp ground, Oliver realized for the first time that the sun had set.  It wasn't a well-lit cemetery.   He focused his eyes on his best friend, who was looking down at him with sympathy in his eyes, still dressed in the crisp black suit from hours before.

 

“Who sets out to find and murder a ten-year-old boy, John?” Oliver asked numbly, not looking up from the gravestone.  “Who does that?”

 

Digg frowned, pushing his hands deep into his pockets as he stepped forward.  “It takes a special kind of evil.”

 

Oliver lifted his eyes to meet Digg’s.  “We need to stop him.”

 

“We will, Oliver.  We’ll stop him.  He won't hurt another child.”  It was a vow.   A growled promise with an intensity only another father could understand. 

 

Oliver thought of Sara.   Sara, the beautiful, happy eighteen-month old who Oliver had rocked and played with and sang to.  Who Oliver knew better than his own son.  Who he would _always_ know better than his own son.   A boy whose existence Oliver knew of for less than a month, who he had met just ten days prior.  Who was now buried in the cold hard ground where no child should ever be.

 

“Connor didn't even know I was his father.  I didn't know I had a son.” Not until Darhk had targeted him.  “That should have kept him safe.”

 

“No one’s safe, man.  Not when evil like this is out there.”

 

Oliver gritted his teeth and looked up at Digg with a single minded determination.  “I'm going to kill him, John.”

 

But Digg just met his gaze and nodded.  “I know.”

 

“No, you don't understand.  _I_ have to _kill_ him.”

 

Digg met his evenly eyes and crossed his powerful arms, nodding slowly.  “I _know_ , Oliver.  We know.  And we’re all behind you.”

 

Oliver’s eyes stung and he dropped his head, the fight going out of him at the easy acceptance.  If there was nothing to argue…  Oliver felt lost.  His thoughts floating in a dozen directions.  None of them were particularly good. 

 

He found himself asking, “Do you think if I'd known about him, things would have been different?”

 

“You mean if you had known about Connor since his birth?”

 

Oliver nodded, eyes now fixed on the name on the headstone.  The name Oliver never gave him, the surname that belonged to another man.  I man Oliver never knew.

 

“God, yeah.  Kids change everything.”

 

The vehemence in his tone almost made Oliver smile.  Almost.  “You're assuming that I would have been part of his life.  That I wouldn't have pretended he didn't exist, been a dead-beat dad.”  On purpose, not accidentally, not because Oliver’s mother and his son’s mother had lied to him.

 

“No,” was John’s simple answer.

 

It made Oliver look up again, narrowing his eyes at his friend’s stoic face.  “You didn't know me then,” Oliver argued, rubbing his hand over his eyes, hating how defeated he sounded.

 

“I know the man you are now.  I know how you handle adversity and that's enough for me to know you wouldn't have abandoned your son.”

 

Oliver scoffed, looking up at John skeptically.

 

Digg cracked a small smile, holding out his hands in surrender.  “Hey, I'm not saying you would have been the perfect father.  I'm pretty sure you would have fucked it up more than once.  No question about that.”

 

A bark of a laugh erupted from Oliver, sounding harsh and odd, but Digg grinned wider.  “Hey, I _know_ you, remember?  And you didn't have me and Felicity back then.  But you wouldn't have abandoned him.  I know that for sure.”

 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Oliver nodded again, accepting this.   But, still, millions of possibilities, of missed opportunities, of what ifs, tumbled through his head leaving him dizzy. 

 

“Come on,” John bade, holding out his hand.  “Get up, before Felicity hobbles out here in the dark and falls on her face trying to get to you.”

 

Oliver obediently took his hand and let his friend help him to his feet, struck again, as he often was, how grateful he was that John had forgiven him.  Especially now, Oliver understood how great his betrayal had been.

 

Once on his feet, Oliver pushed his hands into his pockets and took one last look down at the headstone.  “I keep thinking it should say ‘Queen.’   But Connor didn't even really know what that meant.”

 

“He knew you were his father.  In the end.  He knew you didn't abandon him.  That you loved him and you would have claimed him.”

 

John’s quiet words sent a new wave of emotion through Oliver and he fought back a sob.

 

“He knew you were doing your best to save him.” Digg’s hand squeezed his shoulder.  “He knew his dad was a hero.”

 

The sob escaped at that, the tears flowing freely now.  “Some hero.  I had him for five days.  _Five days_ out of ten years I was his father and I couldn't keep him safe.  I wasn’t a hero.  I was a failure.”

 

“It's not your fault,” came a soft, feminine voice behind them. “It's mine.”

 

Oliver’s eyes swung around to find his girlfriend wobbling on her crutches, unsteady on the soft ground. 

 

Felicity looked awful.  Her eyes were puffy and swollen, her eye makeup smeared, her lips chapped from biting them, her nose red from crying, and her skin pale.  A cast covered most of her left leg and bandages were on her arm, shoulder, and neck from what Oliver knew to be painful burns.  She'd have scars now.  Impressive ones.

 

Instead of answering her, Oliver acted on instinct, opening his arms, calling, “ _Felicity_.”

 

She limped over, all but falling into Oliver’s arms, the crutches tumbling to the ground next to her as her arms encircled his waist and Felicity buried her face in his shirt, her glasses digging into his skin and hers. 

 

“It's not your fault,” Felicity insisted, her voice shaking.  “You did everything you could.   I was the one with him in the van.  I was supposed to protect him.”

 

The van that had been blown sky high, almost taking everything Oliver lived for with it.  Instead, it had just taken half, the beautiful boy who had only just stolen his heart.

 

Oliver tightened his arms around her, cradling Felicity's head against his chest.  “Shhh.  No…”

 

“I shouldn’t be alive if he's not,” Felicity sobbed, so low he could barely hear.

 

Oliver shook his head desperately, terror clutching him at the mere thought.  “I wouldn’t be standing right now if you weren't,” he confessed in her ear.  “I _need_ you.”

 

Felicity fisted his jacket and sobbed.  Oliver locked eyes with Digg who silently picked up Felicity’s crutches and murmured, “I'll give you two a moment.”

 

Nodding, Oliver turned his attention back to his girl.  “Felicity, I don't blame myself for Connor’s death and you shouldn't either.  The blame falls firmly on Darhk and that monster he's working for.”

 

A small nod was the only acknowledgement he would get for a while as Felicity soaked the front of his shirt.  Finally, she pulled back, wiping her cheeks and sniffling.  “I'm sorry.  I'm _so_ sorry.  I'm supposed to be the one comforting _you_.”

 

"You are comforting me," Oliver whispered.  “And I love how you loved him.” His throat closed again.  “From the first moment you saw him, you loved him and accepted him and I'm so grateful for that.”

 

Connor had adored Felicity from the first.  Almost instantly, he was comfortable with her, loved her, when with Oliver he was still guarded, wary.  But Oliver couldn't blame the boy for that.  He had good taste. 

 

"Of course, I did,” Felicity sniffed, somewhat indignantly.  “He's yours.”

 

Oliver buried his nose in her hair, rocking them slowly.  “I love you,” he croaked out.

 

They stood there for a long time, under the darkening sky, over a child’s fresh grave.  A child who had watched his mother and stepfather murdered in front of him just 3 weeks before, who spent the last weeks of his life running and scared.

 

“I think the worst part is that I never really knew him,” Oliver finally whispered.  “I never knew what kind of person he was.  Was he shy or friendly?  Did he love sports or hate broccoli?  I’ll never know now.  I’ll never know if I would have been a good father to him.”

 

Felicity looked up at him, her eyes swollen behind the crooked frames.  “You only knew him for a week and you were already a good father.”

 

Oliver tipped his head down so his forehead rested on hers.  New tears fell from his closed lids and landed with a plop on her glasses.  He didn’t deserve her.  Especially after everything.  He didn’t deserve her.

 

“All those years,” Oliver murmured thickly.  “All those years I missed.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Felicity reassured, one small hand sneaking up between them and wiping the tears from his cheeks.

 

“No,” Oliver agreed.  “It’s not.  But that’s not on Darhk either.”  He opened his eyes, his jaw clenching.  “No, that sin was my mother’s.”  Rage flared.

 

“Oliver…” Felicity reached for him with her other hand, sorrow in her eyes, but it brushed the burn wounds and she flinched, becoming unsteady on her one good foot.

 

Oliver cursed himself.  What was he thinking standing out there in the dark when Felicity was still recovering?  “Come here,” he urged, swinging her up into his arms so her uninjured shoulder was against his chest.

 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and Felicity wrapped her arm around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder.

 

They were half way to the car, when Oliver confessed.  “I tried to propose, you know.”

 

Felicity’s head snapped up, trying to search Oliver’s eyes, but they were fixated ahead of them.  “What?  To me?”

 

Oliver huffed out a sad, almost laugh.  “Never considered anyone else.”

 

“You mean, like _marriage_?”  Her voice broke.

 

“Yes, Felicity.” Oliver suppressed the desire to roll his eyes.  “Several times, actually.  Long before I knew about Connor, by the way, so in case you thought it was just because of him—“

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“Good, because that wasn’t why… but something always happened.  There was always a crisis or an interruption or _something_.”

 

“Oliver...” Felicity cupped her cheek, urging him to look at her and Oliver paused meet her eyes.

 

Looking into her wide blue eyes, the words tumbled out.  “I think… I think it never worked out because of the ring.  I was going to propose with my mother’s ring.  How could we start our life together with _my mother’s_ ring?”

 

“Oh, Oliver.” 

 

Oliver couldn’t stand the look in her eyes any longer, the combination of pain and love, of understanding and despair, was too much.  He tore his eyes away and started walking again.

 

The car came into view, with Digg leaning against it, watching them.  But, it seemed, Oliver wasn’t done talking.  “When this is done.  When I… _we’re_ finished.  I’m going to get you your own ring.  A fresh start.”

 

He felt a kiss press against his shoulder.  Then heard a whispered, “I think I’d like that.”

 

Oliver nodded.  Swallowing the lump in his throat, he kept his eyes on Digg.  “It won’t be a four carat diamond.”

 

Felicity coughed, incredulous.  “Ummm.  I’m ok with that.”

 

When they reached the car, John opened the back seat door, reminiscent of those years where he posed as Oliver’s driver, and Oliver carefully placed Felicity inside before walking around the other side with Digg.  John squeezed his shoulder as Oliver climbed in next to Felicity, managing a small smile in return.

 

Thea was already in the front seat with John and she turned to look at her brother, her eyes as swollen as Felicity’s were.

 

“You ok?” she asked in a small voice.

 

Oliver closed his eyes, wondering if he should lie.

 

“No.  No, I’m really not.”

 

But then, Felicity’s hand closed over his and squeezed.  “We’re ok enough to kick some ass.”

 

Oliver huffed, his lip quirking.  “Yeah.  _That_ I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ’ve heard a lot of speculation that Oliver’s “baby mama” will be the person in the grave. I think a lot of us would prefer that because none of us have a strong emotional connection to Sandra. That is why I don’t buy that as a viable option. No real emotional resonance for either the audience or the characters. And, I don’t think, it would bring Oliver to the point he is at at the end of the Grave scene in 4x01.


	4. Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the hardest to get Oliver to the emotional state he is in in the Premiere. It starts before that scene to explain his state of mind.

It was downright reprehensible how few people were at his funeral.  With everything that Captain Lance had done for this city…with everything he had _sacrificed_ , he deserved a state funeral, not a small plot on the outskirts of town, surrounded by those who live their lives on the very periphery of the law.  

 

His daughters preferred it this way, though.  Preferred the privacy.  This way, Sara could stand in her rightful place next to her father’s grace and not have to hide in the shadows.  

 

Still, Oliver was sickened by how quickly the public had turned on the Captain on the mere suggestion that he’d worked with Darhk.   The City had forgiven his mother for leveling half of the glades and almost elected her mayor.  But even when Lance died defying Darhk, the people turned their backs.  It was reprehensible. 

 

The ceremony was over.  The roses tossed.  The grave filled.  All that was left was a handful of mourners over the lonely grave.  That’s when things started getting ugly. 

 

“This isn't right,” Laurel bit out. 

 

Oliver tensed and Felicity squeezed his hand.   Laurel could mean a lot of things by that statement.  All of them understandable and true.  Unfortunately, Oliver feared she meant something that was neither of those things.

 

Laurel’s eyes flashed and when she fixed her hard stare on him and Felicity, Oliver knew he was right.  “We never should have put him in the ground,” Laurel argued passionately.  “We should already be on a plane.”

 

Oliver tugged Felicity a little closer, feeling her tremble.  They all knew that only one of them with access to plane at present was Felicity and the last thing Oliver wanted was for Laurel to turn her grief fueled rage on her.

 

But respite came from across the grave.  “No, Laurel,” Sara growled, low and menacing, eyes still on her father’s headstone.

 

Immediately, Laurel turned on her sister, Felicity forgotten, as she spat, “Just because you have no feelings any more—”

 

Sara's eyes flew to her sister.  “My _failings_ are exactly why this isn't happening.”  

 

“Laurel,” Thea entreated quietly, approaching her from behind and lying a hand on her shoulder.  

 

But Laurel shrugged her off, continuing to blast her sister, “We waited too long with you.  If we got dad to the Pit quickly, the way they did with Thea—”

 

“I'm not right either, Laurel,” Thea murmured.  “You know that.”

 

Oliver had to look away, swallowing the lump in his throat as he thought of first his sister and then Sara, wondering at the consequences of their actions.  Had putting them in the Pit been worth all they had lost?   In some ways, it was Slade and the Mirakuru all over again. 

 

“So you wish you were dead?” Laurel demanded of Thea, cutting straight to the core of things and slicing to the quick.  

 

Felicity wrapped her other arm around Oliver's bicep, leaning into him for support.  He wished he knew how to stop this for her, for all of them.

 

Then Laurel turned on Sara.  “Do you?   Are you telling me I should have left you in that fucking grave?!”  She was yelling by time she’d finished.

 

Thea slunk back, turning away and Sara just glared at her sister, arms crossed, neither confirming nor denying the angry accusation.  Maybe because it was an impossible question.   Maybe because no one wanted to hear her honest answer.  

 

Laurel was becoming visibly more agitated by the second and this time Digg moved forward to put a hand on her arm, his touch just as much for restraint as it was for comfort.

 

“Answer me!” Laurel screamed at her sister.

 

“Dad wouldn't want this,” Sara told her steadily, answering a different question than the one currently posed.  “He didn’t believe in messing with nature.   He wouldn't want this demon inside him that Thea and I have.”

 

But Laurel just growled at her.  “How would you know what Dad would want?  You're never here.  You've _never_ been here.” 

 

Sara's stance changed, her jaw clenched and Felicity gave Oliver one last squeeze before moving to Sara.  Thea again moved closer to Laurel.  Everyone moving into positions, ready to take action, but no one really knowing what to do. 

 

“I couldn’t be here, Laurel,” Sara snapped.  “I'm a _monster_.  And you are _not_ doing that to Dad.”

 

Laurel’s face became ugly and she yelled, “Don't blame me and the Pit for your short comings, Sara.  They are all your own.”

 

The two women, warriors both, lunged toward each other and Oliver finally moved, placing himself between them, arms out. 

 

“Now is _not_ the time,” he warned, his voice low, his eyes fixed on Laurel.

 

The elder sister scoffed, but drew up, turning from them with an angry roll of her eyes.  “You'll always choose her.  Won’t you, Ollie?”

 

Felicity laid a gentle arm around Sara’s shoulder, murmuring, “Come on.  Let's take a walk.”   Sara allowed Felicity to lead her away from the group, from her father’s grave.

 

Oliver watched them go with a sense of relief, but when he turned back to the others, Laurel had again focused her single-minded determination on him.  “I should be the one to decide, Ollie.”

 

He didn't want to do this.  He didn't want to have to tell her no.   “I'm sorry, Laurel,” was all Oliver could manage.

 

Laurel let out a cry like a wounded animal and it grated, hurt Oliver more than her Canary Cry ever had.  She paced away, but came back, getting in his face.   “Jesus Christ, Oliver, you are such a hypocrite.  We both know that if it were Felicity with a bullet through her heart we’d already be at Nanda Parbat.”  

 

If she wanted a rise in him, she got it.  Oliver felt sucker punched and his fists clenched, fighting the fear and rage Laurel words induced.

 

“ _Oliver_ ,” Digg hissed, shaking his head.  It was just enough to get Oliver to pull back, to make him try and think rationally.

 

Swallowing, Oliver took a steadying breath and looked Laurel in the eye, telling her as firmly as he could, “No, we wouldn't.”

 

Laurel scoffed, fury oozing from her pours.  “Please!  You’d never allow her—”

 

“Felicity and I discussed it,” Oliver interrupted, forcing himself to say it, even though the words burned.  “We…we promised each other we wouldn't put the other in the Lazarus Pit.  So as much as I would be tempted…” His jaw worked.  “As much as I would _want_ to.  I would respect Felicity’s wishes.  And, no, I would _not_ bring her to Nanda Parbat.”

 

By the time Oliver finished, emotion was choking him and his eyes were stinging, but he held Laurel’s gaze until he could see tears appear there as well.

 

But Laurel just shook her head, throwing him a familiar look of complete disappointment and stalked off. 

 

Thea sent Oliver a small, sad smile before turning and running after her friend.  

 

Digg sighed.  Shaking his head and turning to Oliver, he asked, “Do you think I should...?” 

 

Oliver nodded.  “Try to keep her from drinking, ok?”

 

They exchanged a look that acknowledged that short of tying her up, the only one capable of keeping the Black Canary from a path of self-destruction was the Black Canary. 

 

“I'm not sure that's possible,” Digg muttered, glumly.

 

Oliver's eyes found the ground, hands digging into his pockets.  “Well, then, keep her from getting someone killed, would you?”

 

“I'll do my best.” Digg clapped Oliver on the shoulder and turned to follow his team with long strides. 

 

And, then, it was just Oliver and the grave of Quintin Lance. 

 

He didn't know how long he stood there, in silent vigil.  Barry came and went.  While Oliver understood why Barry hadn’t been there earlier, it just exemplified how no one else was here to mourn this man, this flawed but great man.  

 

Barry wasn’t the one who should be there.  But then again, maybe Oliver wasn't the man who should be there either.   Maybe he belonged elsewhere.  Shouldn’t he be with the Lance sisters, supporting them and the cast of characters that made up their strange little family?   They were all each other had left.  

 

Looking down at Lance’s grave, remembering that strong, dynamic, idealistic man who gave Oliver hell for dating his teenage daughter…this lonely grave seemed to symbolize every horrible thing that had happened to their city. 

 

Loss of innocence…loss of strength…just _loss_.

 

He thought of the Laurel and Sara, everything they had been through, the agony they were both fighting now, the riff between them that may never mend.  Oliver loved them both.  Not romantically, not in a long time, but deeply and seeing them like this…

 

Oliver placed a hand on the Captain’s grave.  One tear lost the good fight and slid down his cheek.  He closed his eyes, struggling to keep himself together. The team needed him.  The city… _the world_ needed him to keep it together.

 

“Captain Lance,” Oliver found himself saying, “I know you never liked me.  And that's ok, because I think if I had been you, I would have hated me too.   But I…. believe it or not, I've always admired and respected you.  And no matter what it looks like, I love your daughters.   They are both extraordinary women and I'm proud to call them…to call them family.  I—”

 

Oliver wanted to promise he'd protect them.  But he knew that was an empty promise. 

 

"Captain," Oliver blew out a breath, “I will _always_ be there for them.  Always.  And I will save this city if it's the last thing I do.”

 

And he would.  Oliver wouldn’t let Quentin Lance’s sacrifice be in vain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do like Laurel, though she’s not my favorite, but I would be happy to debate anyone who doesn’t think she’s in character here. I also know that 4X03-05 could change some stuff in here, which is why I’m releasing it first. ;).
> 
> Only one more sad story left then a happy ending.
> 
> Emmy


	5. Digg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rough one.

Oliver's finger traced the inscription on the headstone, slowly, as if to convince himself this was actually happening.

 

The last six days had been surreal, straight out of Oliver’s worst nightmares.

 

He should have known.  Things had been too good.  They had defeated Malcolm.  Thea was back from the League of Assassins, finally deprogrammed and dealing with her demons.  Roy was back as well and that went a long way to helping his sister cope.  Laurel had been promoted to District Attorney and was cleaning up the city.  

 

Digg and Oliver had finally put last spring behind them and were really good again, better than ever really.  Oliver had found the perfect moment and Felicity had agreed to marry him.  Lyla was expecting another healthy baby.

 

Oliver should have known that things were _never_ this good.   He shouldn’t have let himself get comfortable, complacent.

 

Because Darhk brought Malcolm back from the dead and this time without whatever was left of his soul and, together, the two had targeted the weakest of them.   The most precious.

 

John got there first.  Without back-up.  It was his death sentence, and, still, Oliver had to thank God he hadn’t waited.  If John had waited even a minute for Oliver and the others to arrive this wouldn't be the only fresh grave.

 

It still might not be.

 

Oliver listed forward, his body doubling over in pain as a sob tore from his throat. 

 

And yet, incredibly, Oliver felt indulgent crying at his best friend’s grave.  He couldn't shake the feeling that John wouldn't want him there.  Oliver could almost hear his voice in his ear, “What are you doing, man?  Get your ass to the hospital.”

 

The hospital where the three people John had died to protect were recovering.  Their three girls.  Their combined reasons for living.  Oliver knew that if Digg had to give his life for them, he gave it gladly.  Just as Oliver would have.

 

The only problem was they weren’t out of danger yet.  It remained to be seen if the sacrifice had been worth it.

 

Oliver should have asked Barry to bring him to the hospital instead of sending him away.  The others were all back there already.  But there was this tug in Oliver’s gut, a tug telling him he couldn't leave yet, that there was something he needed to make sure Digg knew.  But the words stuck in his throat, were still a confused mess in his exhausted mind.

 

“Ollie,” Thea called out, interrupting his jumbled thoughts. 

 

Oliver quickly rubbed his eyes and tried to compose himself as his sister jogged over, still in her black suit, looking tousled and drawn. 

 

“I’m sorry.  I know you wanted some time, but,” Thea held up her phone, “the hospital—”

 

“Felicity?” Oliver sprang to his feet, his stomach dropping, cramping.  

 

Please God, no.  Not Felicity too.  He couldn't stand it.  After the surgery…the doctors said the surgery went well.  That she just needed time, but that she'd recover. 

 

Thea held up her hand, shaking her head.  “Felicity’s fine.  Really.   In fact, they extubated her.  She's breathing on her own.”

 

Oliver sagged, his hand coming to rest on the headstone.  Even in death, Digg was holding him up. 

 

Still, he should have been there when Felicity was extubated.  It felt wrong that he hadn't. It felt wrong _not_ to be at the grave…it felt wrong to…Oliver had never felt such a strong need to be in five places at the same time. 

 

“She's groggy,” Thea continued, managing a small smile, “but Curtis says she asked for you.”

 

The relief Oliver felt was profound.  Yet, it was a complicated by guilt.  How dare he feel anything good when John was in the ground?

 

“He’s sitting with her, but he thought…Curtis felt like, maybe, you should be the one…” Thea bit her lip when it started to tremble, her hand gesturing awkwardly to the grave as her voice cracked, “be the one to tell Felicity about...”

 

Oliver's jaw tightened and his hand clenched where it still rested on the headstone.  “Yeah.  _Yes_.  I need to be the one to tell her.”

 

But if anything, Speedy just became more anxious, bouncing from foot to foot.  “That's not… That wasn’t what the hospital called about, though.  Laurel went ahead and Captain Lance…” Thea took a deep breath.  “They have Lyla sedated and monitored in L&D—”

 

“Thea!” Oliver barked, cutting off the incomprehensible babble as the panic rose again.  “Is it the baby?”

 

“No…no…the baby…he looks ok…they think he’ll be ok even with the sedation.  But the problem is Lyla’s in no shape…” Thea closed her eyes and swallowed.  “Ollie, Sara’s ready to be discharged from Pediatrics and Amanda Waller showed up to take her into protective custody.”

 

“What!?” Oliver roared, making Thea flinch.

 

“We have a guard but—”

 

“Call Laurel,” Oliver ordered, cutting her off.  “Tell her to pull up Diggle’s Last Will and Testament.  It name’s Felicity and I as Sara and the new baby’s guardians, in the event of...” Shit.  “We also have Power of Attorney if John,” his voice cracked, but he pushed on, “and Lyla aren't around to make decisions.” 

 

He was supposed to be forth in line to make these decisions.  Lyla and Digg then Felicity then…him.  Oliver hadn’t really let himself think about it all coming down to him, even temporarily.  He remembered when John had asked them to fill this role.  He had been touched and honored, but now…now it felt like a holy mission…a new purpose.  It was terrifying.

 

“That should hold them off for a time.”  Oliver just hoped it was true.  “Tell Laurel we’re on our way and to make sure no one gets their hands on Sara before I get there.”

 

Thea nodded jerkily, looking marginally relieved.  “Ok…ok.”  Then she had her phone out and was walking back to car with long strides, already calling Laurel.

 

Oliver started to follow her, but again he felt that pull and turned, crouching before the headstone.  This time urgency loosened his tongue.

 

“John, there are three men I've called brother and, well, that's never gone all that well for any of them, but no one has ever felt more like blood than you.”  Oliver swallowed through the tightness in his throat.  “And I…I _swear_ to you you will always be my brother and I will do everything, _everything_ in my power to protect Sara and Lyla and that baby boy.

 

“I know I haven't always put your family first before, but now…now your family is my family and they will always come first.  Family first.  Always.  And they will know you.  I won't let those kids forget you.  They will know how much you loved them, how you died to save them, how you were the greatest hero…” Oliver's voice cracked and he whimpered, burying his face in his hands as he struggled for control.

 

Oliver forced himself to finish.  He knew he had to _go_.  “I'll make sure they know their father was the greatest hero I've ever known.  And I’m going to stop the men who did this, who took away their father.   I'm going to wipe them off the face of the Earth and then I'm going to rebuild this city into a place where our family, yours and mine, will be safe.  If it's the last thing I do.  I swear it.”

 

Oliver was shaking at the end, but he took a deep breath and scrubbed his face, forcing himself to stand.   He had to take custody of Sara, check on Lyla, tell Felicity… Dear God it was too much.  This was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

 

With long, quick strides Oliver made his way to Thea and their bikes.  There would time later to mourn.  Right now he had a promise to fill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Digg has to die, it better be heroic and it better be epic.
> 
> So, this was the last depression chapter. The last chapter has an actual happy ending, though it was also the only one that had me sobbing from the start while I wrote it. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading and particularly those who take the time to let me know if they like it (or not)
> 
> Emmy


	6. Felicity (+ 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me. I promise a happy ending to this one. A very fluffy, happy ending

Barry left and Oliver felt a tear push through his defenses.  Then another.  The pain that he was keeping carefully contained so he could function…the walls…they weren't holding.  The agony was too much…

 

Oliver had told Barry that he was going to end this.  Kill _him_.  But, honestly, Oliver had no idea how.   Not because he didn’t have a plan, but because he was having trouble functioning, thinking…breathing.   How was he going to end _anything_ if he couldn’t put one foot in front of the other?

 

He had held the only women he would ever love as her life bled out of her.  Oliver had watched as she uttered her last words, as she took her last breath.  Sometimes, it feels like that was his last breath as well.  Felicity took his soul with her.  And Oliver didn’t even want it back.

 

There was only one thing left now.  Only one thought that keep him moving.  What would Felicity want?   That mantra guided Oliver’s every thought and action.  

 

Would Felicity want him to eat?  Yes.  So, Oliver forced himself to choke down food.

 

Would Felicity want him to blame himself?  No.   So, Oliver fought the guilt and turned the rage outward.

 

Would Felicity want him to keep fighting, to drive the evil out of their city?   Yes.  So, that's what Oliver would do.  Somehow.  He would fight and fight and fight…until every last one of them were dead.

 

But after that…after that, Oliver didn't….  

 

He hoped that it would kill him.  Oliver hoped beyond hope that he would die and battle and…but Felicity wouldn’t want that.  So, there was nothing left to hope for.

 

A sob tore from Oliver's throat.  Ugly and loud and harsh.  And Oliver didn’t care.  He didn’t care.  It was followed by another and another and then he was shattering.  It was all pouring out and he couldn’t…

 

God, this couldn't be happening…it just _couldn't_ …but it was.  It was real.  Felicity…

 

Felicity wasn't coming back.  _She wasn't coming back._   She wasn't…

The sobs were uncontrollable now and Oliver didn't know how he'd ever stop.  And it didn't even seem to matter.  How could he care?  There was nothing left of him.  Nothing worthwhile.  All the light died with her.

 

Oliver clutched at the ring, the one Felicity never got to put on her hand, the one Oliver now wore around his neck, until it cut into his skin.  His other hand he laid flat over her name where it was cut into the stone.  A name that meant happiness.  That's what she had meant to him.  And now happiness was dead.

 

He held his hand there while he cried, either trying to absorb her back into himself or to block the name out, deny that it would ever be carved in stone, that Felicity could ever be put some place as cold and lonely as the ground.

 

“Felicity, sweetheart, I...” Oliver could barely get the words out, but he didn't… He just _had_ to talk to her.  “Baby, I don't think I can…how am I going to do this without you?  How _can_ I?”

 

“You can't.”

 

Oliver jerked violently, his eyes flying up, all his muscles poised for a fight.   But it was just Sara, a hundred yards away, dressed in her full White Canary suit, bow staff in hand.  Oliver rubbed his palm over his eyes, trying to clear his vision.  Sara looked like an avenging angel and for a moment he worried he was hallucinating.  If he was going to hallucinate, couldn't he at least see Felicity?

 

When the vision didn't speak again, Oliver forced himself to ask, “Wh... what?”

 

“You can't.  Do this without her,” Sara repeated, stepping forward.  “The world has gone to hell, Ollie.  Evil’s taken hold and it's too late.”

 

“Are you saying we should give up?” Oliver asked incredulously.

 

He wanted to.  God, Oliver wanted to give up.  He wanted to crawl into a ball over Felicity’s grave and wait for death to claim him too.  The only problem was...the problem was that he knew Felicity wouldn't want that.

 

“Felicity would want me to fight,” Oliver said more clearly, almost yelling it at the Sara shaped vision.

 

She smiled and she looked very much like the old Sara, walking toward him with her staff over her shoulder.  “Yes, she would.  That's why I brought help.”

 

Her eyes went to the left and Oliver's followed, his breath catching at the sight of her team walking toward them. 

 

Rip Hunter reached them first.  “This is wrong, Oliver.  Star City, Los Angeles, Coast City, Ivy Town, the entire West Coast is in ashes.  Darhk and his monsters have won.” 

 

It was Ray Palmer who broke away and approached Oliver, holding out a hand to help him to his feet and telling him in an uncharacteristically serious voice, “We’re going to fix this.  We’re going to bring Felicity back.”

 

Oliver allowed Ray to help him stand, but shook his head.  He understood Ray loved Felicity too, so he didn’t rage.  He met Ray’s eyes and told him carefully, his voice hoarse from crying, “We can't.  I promised her.  That I would never resurrect her.  I _promised_.”  He wanted to though.  Damn the consequences.

 

A throat cleared and Oliver's eyes darted to Professor Stein, who pronounced, “Let's rephrase that, shall we?  What we are going to do is fix the time line so Ms. Smoak never dies in the first place.”

 

Oliver gasped, feeling sucker punched, but at the same time he drew himself up, feeling alive and awake for the first time in days.   Since she had died in his arms.  “You'd do that?  For Felicity?”

 

Professor Stein smiled kindly.  “No, dear boy, we can't go back to save a single girl, no matter how lovely a person she was.”

 

“But she was a casualty of a much bigger wrong,” Rip continued.  “We’re going back not to save Felicity, but to save the world.”

 

It was the sarcastic voice of Captain Cold who drawled, “Lucky for you, your girl is part of that world.”  He threw Oliver a bundle of clothes and Oliver caught them on reflex.  “You need to change.  We can't have your past-self recognizing you.”

 

Oliver’s eyes skimmed over the black costume before taking in the team surrounding him.  A team he'd helped create, never imagining they would come back and save everything that mattered to him. 

 

“Where are we going?” Oliver asked, never questioning that he would do anything they asked on the slimmest chance they could do as they said.

 

“Back five weeks,” Sara answered.  “To the fight you had with Darhk.  The one you lost.”

 

“Only this time you won't be alone.”  Ray smiled a huge, beaming grin, the one that used to make Oliver’s skin crawl.  Now it gave him hope.   Wonderful, dizzying hope.   

 

Sara’s smile joined Ray’s, hers as sly as a cat.  “And this time we’re going to win.”

 

Five weeks ago... Christ.  It was a lifetime ago.

 

Before Laurel was put in a coma.

 

Before Thea turned and joined the League of Assassins.

 

Before Lance was institutionalized.

 

Before Lyla lost the baby.

 

Before the Glades and everything around it burned to the ground.

 

Before Baby Sara was caught in the flames and Digg only just got her out alive.

 

Before Felicity….

 

Oliver nodded, his jaw tight.  Dear God, this _had_ to work. 

 

“Let's move.”

 

 

 

****

**_Ten minutes later, after…_ **

 

Oliver's whole body spasmed and he jolted upright, pulling air into his burning lungs, feeling not unlike he had when he broke the surface of the South Pacific after the Gambit went down.  He felt disoriented and confused, the world blurry and indistinct.

 

“Hey.  Hey, you…you ok?  What happened?”

 

Felicity?

 

Dear God.  “Felicity?!” Oliver's eyes jerked over.  His vision focused and he grabbed for her.  Oh dear God.  She was solid.  She was…

 

“You're alive,” Oliver gasped, reverent.

 

Felicity laughed and it was the most wonderful sound Oliver had ever heard.  “Of course, I’m alive.”  She ran a hand down his face and Oliver caught it, turning his face into her palm and kissing it, tears burning his vision. 

 

“You're the one who passed out,” Felicity argued, gently.  “What happened?”

 

Oliver had no fucking clue.  The last thing he clearly remembered was sitting at her grave, talking to Sara and then…then everything was foggy. 

 

He scanned his surroundings.  They were in their Loft.  Everything was exactly the way Oliver and Felicity had arranged it together, bright and vibrant and new.  Not covered in soot.   Last he remembered, the Loft was an out burnt shell.

 

Oliver was lying on their coach with Felicity sitting pressed up against his hip and behind her…there was a small crowd.  All their friends.  As in _all_ of them, not just the ones who lived in Star City.  They were holding back, keeping their distance.  And Felicity smiling at him and looking beautiful and healthy and _alive_. 

 

“Maybe I can help.”  Professor Stein broke away from the crowd, sauntering over with a glass of scotch swirling in his hand.  “Oliver, your mind is merely catching up with the timeline.  It’s nothing to worry about.”

 

“It's a little disorienting at first,” Sara added out, dressed as herself now, not her alter ego. “Hence the passing out thing.  But you get used to it.”

 

Felicity rolled her eyes, looking annoyed and, again, Oliver felt like he was missing something.  Taking his hand, Felicity glared over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at Sara and Professor.  “Are you guys going to explain exactly what happened like… _ever_?”

 

Professor Stein smiled.  “All you need to know is that Oliver helped us fix the timeline.  It's better if the details remain obscure.” 

 

“Professor, let's give Oliver and Felicity a minute,” someone called out, he thought it might have been Barry.  Christ, was everyone he knew there?

 

Dr. Stein nodded and retreated to the kitchen.  Oliver turned to Felicity.  At the moment, he really didn’t care how this came to be, just that it was real.  His hands shook as they reached out to touch the curls lying artfully over her shoulders, as they smoothed over her cheeks and lips.    

 

“You're alive,” Oliver murmured again, scarcely trusting it.

 

Felicity smiled indulgently, before glancing behind them briefly and loudly saying, “I take it I died in this alternate timeline.”

 

“Let it go,” Sara called back. 

 

Scrunching up her face like she did when she was aggravated, Felicity turned her full attention back to Oliver, her voice softening.  “I'm fine,” she murmured quietly.  “More than fine.”

 

Felicity leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a soft, easy kiss.

 

But what would have once been a simple kiss that Oliver would take for granted, this one brought tears to his eyes and shot bolts of pleasure coursing through his body.  His hand cupped the back of Felicity’s head, kissing her back desperately.  He thought…he'd thought he'd never have this again.   Oh thank _God_.

 

When he pulled back, Oliver laughed a bit hysterically.  “It worked,” he breathed in wonderment.

 

Felicity beamed.  “So it would seem.” She pressed another quick kiss to his lips.  “My hero.  You saved me and I didn't even know it.”

 

Oliver laughed again and this time it actually felt normal.  “God, I love you.  Felicity, I love you.”

 

“I know.” Her ringing laugh was happiness itself.

 

He could stare into her clear blue eyes forever.  Felicity wasn't wearing her glasses and Oliver used the opportunity to run his thumbs over her temples, lying his forehead against hers.  “I don’t ever want to live without you.”

 

“Me neither,” Felicity answered immediately, her voice a shaky whisper.

 

Oliver couldn’t wait another moment.  He vowed to himself right then and there to never waste another second.  “Felicity, will you marry me?”

 

Her laugh wasn't exactly the response Oliver had envisioned.  “That would be a bit redundant, wouldn't it…?  Wait.”  Felicity jerked back abruptly, turning and yelling, “He doesn't remember!  Why doesn't he remember?”  When no one immediately answered, she yelled, “Sara!”

 

Sara appeared over her shoulder and Felicity repeated her question.  Sara gave her a sympathetic smile, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder.   “He’ll remember, don't worry.  It's just the two versions of Oliver catching up to each other.  His memories will integrate soon.”

 

Staring up at her, Felicity frowned. “How soon?”

 

“Maybe an hour?” Sara offered and Felicity seemed to relax somewhat, but still bit her lip anxiously.

 

“Watch out,” Ray Palmer called from the other room, “it can make you a little queasy.”

 

Oliver didn't pay the bastard any mind, he was too busy looking at Felicity and trying to take it all in.  Felicity's response to his proposal.  Sara's explanation.  The conflicting images at war in his head.

 

Sara disappeared as Oliver grabbed Felicity's hand looking for...oh god.  “Felicity, did I….?” 

 

He brought his other hand to his chest where his mother’s ring no longer lie.  Because it was there on Felicity's left hand.  “I already asked,” Oliver breathed, awe and disappointment at odds. 

 

"Oliver,” Felicity said gently, taking his left hand and holding it up for him to see.  “Sweetheart, were already _married_.” 

 

And there it was…a platinum band on his finger and, now that he looked closely, there was a matching one next to his mother’s engagement ring on hers.

 

"When?” Oliver breathed.

 

Felicity’s nose scrunched adorably.  “Umm…about forty minutes ago.”

 

Oliver sucked in a breath and took a new look at his surroundings.  He was dressed as he was when this all began, in his funeral suit…now his wedding suit?  Felicity was wearing white.  A flowy, clingy, elegant white dress that hugged her curves.  Not too fancy.  Just perfect.  And beyond, the Loft was decorated with flowers and candles.  All their friends gathered in the kitchen…

 

"I don't..." he began.  Oliver didn't remember his own wedding.  This was certainly not a consequence he’d considered when he’d agreed to go back in time.

 

But, then…as clear as day…Oliver saw…a flash of Felicity on the balcony, flowers in her hair and in her hands, staring up at him with adoration and elation.  Oliver closed his eyes as the images assailed him, coming faster and faster.  Such beautiful images.

 

“Oh my god,” Oliver groaned.  “Did Ray marry us?”

 

The relief in Felicity's laugh was clear.  “Yup.”

 

“ _Jesus_.”

 

But Felicity just continued to laugh, happy giggles at his obvious discomfort.  “And it was lovely.”

 

Oliver smiled.  “I _remember_.” Because suddenly, he did.   And from the images he was getting…it _was_.  

 

He brought their entwined hands to his lips and closed his eyes, emotion after emotion washing over him.  All of them good.  It was just….it was just, wow.  So very _wow_. 

 

Oliver sat up, pulling Felicity next to him with an arm around her shoulders, pressing his lips into her soft hair.  She turned her face into his neck and snaked her arms around his middle, burrowing into him.  Holding her close, Oliver he looked over to their friends. 

 

Laurel was healthy and whole, talking to Thea who was giggling at whatever she said and, oh God, holding hands with Roy, both of them looking so young and normal and happy.   Captain Lance was there, with his hand on Sara’s shoulder, talking to Cisco and Detective West.  Digg had his arms around Lyla, resting his hands on her barely-there baby bump.  And so many more.  It was just…

 

Suddenly, a ball of pink satin hurled from the crowd, toward Oliver and Felicity, shrieking happily, “Unca Ollie!”

 

Oliver caught the younger Sara as she threw herself at them and lifted her onto his lap, searching her beautiful baby face.  No burn scars on her cheek or hand.  No cast.  Just a giggly toddler in ruffles and lace, giving first him, then Felicity messy, wet kisses.

 

“Pretty! Fower,” Sara announced reaching for the flowers in Felicity’s hair.

 

Laughing, Felicity caught her smooth hands and blew a raspberry on her baby palms.  “Yes, you have some, too.” And she pointed to the matching flowers adorning the headband in baby Sara’s hair.

 

Sara beamed.  “Sara pretty!”

 

“The prettiest,” Felicity agreed, kissing first Sara, then Oliver on the cheek.

 

And Oliver watched, smiling as tears filled his eyes and the new memories of the last five weeks slowly came back to him, going back to the battle they had once lost.  That battle had become the final battle.  Then after math.  And recovery.  The new memories started to replace the bad ones.  The “wrong” ones.  They faded into the background like a bad dream. 

 

Looking up, Oliver met Sara Lance’s eyes and mouthed, “Thank you.”

 

Sara only smiled and gave him a discrete wink before turning back to her conversation with her sister.

 

Oliver sighed, contentment filling even fiber of his being as he hugged his girls to him and listened to their chatter.

 

This future was _definitely_ the right one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read my little foray into the dark side. I’ve never written anything as sad as the first five chapters before. A special thanks to everyone who took the time to review (I will try to go back and respond at some point).

**Author's Note:**

> http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/


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